


In The Making

by morewinepls



Category: 9 to 5 the Musical - Parton/Resnick
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, High School AU, and we stan bicon Violet, bernstead, but also not it's who I am, i apologize for the angst, they're oblivious gays, we stan disaster lesbian judy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morewinepls/pseuds/morewinepls
Summary: The Bernstead High School AU that no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very big Thank You to @kingdamm on tumblr for beta-ing this, and providing me with info on the American High School system. And also big thank you for encouraging my writing ily
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @musicals-art / @morewinepls

It’s raining. Of course it’s raining. Because her day was not yet bad enough as it already was. No, It had to be raining, and now all her books are getting wet and her teacher is going to write her a note for being late and her parents are going to be furious and it’s all her own fault. If she had just left earlier, she would not have missed her bus. If she had skipped breakfast, she would not have spilled juice on her skirt, and she would not have had to change. And her mother would not have yelled at her and she would not have cried, and then she would not have been late. But she is, and she’s crying still. 

She arrives at school soaked and shivering. The concierge gives her a look when she drips all over the floor he’s just finished cleaning. She keeps her head low, and walks straight to the restroom.She locks herself in a stall and sits on the closed toilet seat, where she finally takes the deep breath she’d been denying herself since she walked through the main entrance of the building. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to fight off the panic. She’s freezing, her hair sticks wet to her face, her clothes cling to her skin. Judy thinks of the dry, warm sweater that she keeps in her locker, but her chest seizes just thinking of having to pass the concierge again. No, she’ll wait here on the toilet seat until she’s dry. She’ll dry herself off with toilet paper. She’s late anyways, and walking in the classroom, interrupting the teacher and having everyone look at her, is too much to bear. Yes, dirty toilet stall it is. 

She doesn’t know what to do with her wet clothes, and she starts crying again. Her sweater will take hours to dry, her tights stick to her in a way that makes her feel disgusting, and her pinafore is dripping loudly on the tiled floor. She could wring it out over the toilet, but then it will be wrinkled, and she won’t have anything to wear. But waiting for it to dry will take forever. She tries to dry it by blotting it with toilet paper, but it only leaves white specks on the fabric. Panic sets in. She rethinks her options. She either has to walk past the concierge, dirty his floor, and feel his eyes on her as she does so. Or she will spend the entire day in the stall. The second option still seems preferable. She tries to convince herself the congierce will already be in a different part of the school. That she can walk down the hallway without anyone seeing her.

But then the bell echoes through the hallway, making Judy wonder just how late she had been, and how long she’d been hiding away. She steadies her breath, and checks if the door is still locked - it is. She can hear students chatting and laughing and complaining as they walk out of the classrooms. _ Please don’t come in here, _ she thinks, _ Please don’t come in here. _She repeats it, as if it would put a ward on the door against anyone trying to enter. But she must not have repeated it enough. A group of girls walks in, laughing loudly, joking about this thing and the other. Judy is too focussed on being as still and quiet as she can to actually listen to what they are saying. They leave quickly, and Judy lets out a shaky breath, tears forming again, stinging in her eyes and throat. Someone else walks in, the squeaking of the door seeming louder than usual. The person is singing to herself, humming a melody as she turns on the tap. Judy swallows hard before daring to speak up. 

“Violet?” 

the tap turns off. A second of silence. “Judes?”

Then Judy is crying again. Body-shaking sobs that she’s been holding in since spilling her juice that morning. She unlocks the door and then Violet is holding her close, petting her wet hair. She lets Judy cry for a couple of long seconds before slightly pulling back to look her in the eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I got wet” She sniffles, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. She takes a shaky breath. “And my mom yelled at me, and I missed my bus so I had to walk and - and I-” A new round of sobs overwhelm her. Violet sighs and pulls her close again, resting her chin on top of Judy’s head. 

They stay like that for a bit, Judy crying and Violet gently comforting her until Judy nods to herself, and breaks away. Violet wipes her wet chin with her sleeve.

“Here-” she says “Take my sweatshirt, I have a t-shirt under it.” The last two words were muffled as she pulls the thing over her head. When she looks at Judy, she notices that she’s definitely blushing, which makes Violet blush too. 

“I have my sweatpants in my locker, if you want?. They’ll be huge on you, though.” Judy nods.

“Thanks” she says, taking the sweatshirt. She retreats into the stall, and Violet promises to be right back. Now alone again, Judy quickly takes off her wet clothes, wipes away the last of her tears, and dries herself off with some paper towels. She looks at the sweater. It’s one of Violet’s favorites. It’s worn out and the print is crumbled. It’s perfect. She pulls it over her head. It’s still warm, and it brings her immediate comfort. The sleeves completely cover her hands, and it reaches her thighs. She pulls the top of the sweater over her mouth and nose, and inhales. She thinks of seeing Violet’s stomach when she pulled her sweater off, and hopes with everything she has that Violet didn’t see how flustered it had made her. Goodness, as if she hadn’t embarrassed herself enough as it was. 

She fumbles with the sleeves until she hears the door open again. “It’s me.” Violet calls out. Judy opens the stall and steps out. Violet smiles sweetly as she looks at her. 

“Looks good on you, kid” she says, and hands her the sweatpants. “I also brought you dry socks. Thought you might need those too.”

Judy smiles, and can’t help but let out a small laugh, feeling completely ridiculous. She considers going back in the stall to pull on the pants, but they’re alone, and it’s just Violet. _ It’s just Violet. _she repeats to herself. 

The pants are soft and warm, just like the sweatshirt, and Judy wants to never take them off again. She puts on the socks Violet had brought, steadying herself by holding Violet’s shoulder.

“Are your shoes very wet?” 

“I don’t think so.” She looks up as she pulls the second sock over her heel, and is startled by how close their faces are. She looks away, busying herself with folding the ends of the sweatpants up so she won’t trip. Violet tries not to think about how cute Judy’s freckles are, Judy tries not to think of the warm feeling spreading through her chest. God, Violet is very pretty. She clears her throat. “They should be fine.”

She puts on her shoes in silence, then runs a hand through her hair, hating how tangled it has become. She grimaces, knowing exactly how frizzy her hair is going to be once it’s dry. She picks up her wet clothes and holds them at a safe distance in front of her. Violet is watching her with a bit of an odd expression.

“What is it?”

“Hm? Nothing!” Violet shoves her hands in her pockets. “Come on, let’s go find a place to dry your clothes.”

They end up asking the lady at the student desk if they can let the clothes dry on the heater there, which raises an eyebrow, but isn’t problem at all. “Just don’t forget them at the end of the day, honey.” And then, after a glance at the time, “I’ll write you a note for your teacher so you won’t get in trouble. Class started already - here, now off you go!” 

They thank her and leave. Violet glances at Judy. Her hair is starting to curl a bit, and is leaving small wet spots on the sweatshirt. She’s retying the sweatpants, which gives Violet a change to look at her. She knows she’s in love with Judy. She has known for quite a while. Not that it matters. Judy is her best friend, and no romantic feelings in the world would make her risk losing that friendship. Not to mention that she has a boyfriend. _ Dick. _She doesn’t like him that much. No, she absolutely fucking hates him. But Judy does like him, so she hasn’t punched him in the face - yet.

“Thanks again, Vi.” Judy says, looping her arm around Violet’s. “God knows how long I would have stayed in there crying.”

Violet smiles at her, and tries not to think too much about how close they are now. 

“You really should get your own phone, Judes. Then you can just text me if something is wrong.”

Judy sighs. “I know. But you know how my mom is.” _ yes, _ Violet thinks _ . I do know. _They’ve had this discussion multiple times now. Violet had even offered to help pay, but Judy had flat-out refused. “plus, a phone would distract me from my studies. And it could be hacked, and all my pictures would be all over the internet. Or someone could track my location, and kidnap me! A phone is quite dangerous.” 

Violet scoffs. “That’s your mom talking.”

Judy shrugs. “Either way, it’s not going to happen anytime soon. Maybe when I finally move out.”

“If your mom lets you.”

“Violet.”

Violet holds up her hands in surrender. When they’re about to turn the corner that leads to their class, Judy stops.

“How do I look?” She asks, pulling at the sweatshirt. 

“You like fine, don’t worry.”

“I look stupid.”

“You look beautiful.” Violet immediately clears her throat. “How about we just skip, huh. I bet we won’t miss anything important.”

Judy looks both relieved and scared at the idea.

“Where would we go?”

“We could go to the coffee shop and get you something warm to drink? I took the car this morning, so we won’t have to get wet.” 

Judy takes a deep breath, considers for a second, and exhales.

“Sure. Sure, why not. I’ll get in trouble for being late today anyways. What’s an extra note, right?” She’s trying to convince herself, Violet knows, but she just nods in agreement.

They sneak out, and 10 minutes later they were running through the rain from the car to the coffee shop entrance, both laughing, Violet holding her backpack over their heads as a makeshift umbrella, and holding Judy’s hand to her chest. They enter the shop almost fully dry, and puff through their laughter.

The coffee shop is almost empty, so they pick the nicest spot in the back next to the window. They’re regulars, it’s their usual meetup place, so the waitress just shakes her head in amusement when they admit they’re skipping class. Judy orders a hot chocolate, Violet orders coffee and a plate of waffles. Judy leans forward, putting her chin on her crossed arms. They sit in comfortable silence until they’re drinks arrive. After their thanks and a “Food will be right up, huns,” they’re left alone again. Violet takes a sip of her coffee, and licks her lips.

“How’re you feeling?” She asks.

“Much better.” Judy says quietly. She picks up her drink. “Thanks to you.” She hides a small smile behind her cup.

_ Fuck. _ She’s so adorable that Violet forgets to breathe for a moment. She wants to reach across the table and grab Judy’s hand and tell her that she loves her with everything she has. She wants to stand on the table and scream out _ I am in love with Judy Bernly! _Instead she says “Anything for you.” It’s as close to a love confession as it will get.

They talk about little things. They smile a lot at each other (because of each other). And they’re oblivious to the waitress looking at them knowingly. When she brings up the waffles, she sees Violet blushing, and she has to hold back a laugh. They’re idiots. Oblivious fools.

“Enjoy!” she says, and doesn’t mean the food. With a wink, she’s gone again.

Violet takes a waffle, and pushes the plate to Judy’s half of the table. She takes one with only a small moment of hesitation. Violet considers it a victory.

“Any plans for tonight?” She asks with her mouth full. Judy nods.

“I have to study for the math test next week, and Dick and his parents are coming over for dinner.”

“Fun.” Violet says dryly. Judy ignores it.

“How about you?”

“The usual. I’ll probably read a bit,” _ and think about you the entire time _ . ”And I promised my brother I’d play mario kart with him tonight”. _ Playing with you would be much more fun though. _

A crack of thunder startles them both, the rain falls aggressively against the window. Judy pulls the sleeves of the sweater over her hands and sniffles, then smiles. A big smile. Then she chuckles. Violet’s heart beats a little faster.

“What’s funny?” She can’t help but smile too.

“Nothing - Just. This is not how I’d imagined my day to go.”

“And it’s not even 10 am yet.” _ We still have the entire day together. _

“Vi?”

“hm?”

“You’re going to spill your coffee.”

“Oh!” She puts her cup down. She’d been tilting it without realizing. “Thanks.”

_ Snap out of it! _ She berates herself. _ Stop being an idiot and snap out of it - And stop looking at her lips! _

“I wish we could stay here all day.” Judy sighs. “But I still need to go back to school for my clothes. And Mr. Henderson said he would explain more about our next assignment today.”

“You’re still nervous about that?”

“I’m failing his class. The creative writing assignments are they only things I get a decent score on. I can’t risk failing those, too.”

“Alright, we’ll be back before then. Fourth period, right?”

Judy nods. They lapse into a conversation about the last writing assignment they’d had, and the topics flow freely from there on. The conversation is easy and sweet and they both wish they did not have to return to school at all. When the time comes that they have to leave, Judy insists on paying. “For the clothes.” she reasons. “And for taking me here.” Violet insists on covering the tip. 

They sneak back into the school successfully, much to Judy’s surprise. Though she knows that Violet’s hooky game is not to be underestimated, her anxiety always has the upper hand. They sit through their classes. Judy only gets a few stares about her outfit, but other than that, she’s ignored. The new writing assignment is exciting, and the surprise Spanish test went better than she thought it went. At the end of the day, they’re both exhausted. Judy is in her own clothes again and folding the ones she borrowed from Violet despite Violet repeating that they’re going in the laundry anyway, and don’t need to be folded.

“Have fun with Dick tonight.” Violet says as she’s stuffing the clothes in her bag.

“Thanks.” Judy starts to pick at her nails. 

Violet shakes her head to herself. “And just ignore your mom when she yells at you, okay?” She looks at Judy, eyes serious. “Whatever she says, it’s all bullshit. Just tell her that I forced you to skip class. She doesn’t like me anyways.”

“I really wish you could get along with my mom.” Judy sighs. 

“I know. But I’m not going to be decent to her when she isn’t decent to you, Judes.”

“You know she isn’t always like that.”

“Sure. Doesn’t excuse it though.” Violet sighs. “But hey, how about I give you a ride home, hm? I’ll explain to your mom what happened. I’ll take the blame.”

Judy hesitates for a second. “If you’re sure?”

“ ‘course.” _ Anything for you, _ she thinks. _ Everything for you. _

  



	2. Chapter 2

Violet can’t concentrate. At all. She’s trying to, she really, really is. But Judy is sitting across from her, leaning against a pillow on the opposite side of her bed, and she’s quietly mouthing the words along as she reads what she has just written. They’re working on their creative writing assignment. Or at least Judy is. Violet is working on keeping her emotions under control. 

She wants to say something, but Judy looks very concentrated, and she doesn’t want to interrupt her flow. She knows how hard it is for her to stay focussed on tasks, so she keeps quiet. Instead she looks back at her laptop and re-reads what she has written down so far - it isn’t much. With a sigh, she looks at the prompt again, hoping that this time it will give her a boost of inspiration. 

_ ‘Take some time to visit a nearby museum with your journal. Write about one of the pieces that speaks to you.’ _

Their trip to the museum had been fun. Very interesting, too, though not really because of the art. Judy had been surprisingly passionate about that what was being displayed, and it was all that Violet had been able to focus on.

So now she’s stuck. Because all she can think of is how Judy’s eyes had been sparkling as she went from painting to painting, sighing as she spoke of wanting to step into the frame and explore the depicted landscape - her Judy is a poet. She sighs. Judy looks up.

“Are you stuck?”

“Yeah.”  _ And not only on the writing. _

“What painting did you choose?”

“None.” she sighs again, and flips over onto her stomach. “So far I just have a little intro about the museum.”

“Alright.” Judy puts down her pen and paper and puts her hair back behind her ears. “What paintings did you like?”

“uhhh.”  _ I didn’t really look at any paintings today.  _ “- the red and blue one? With the, uhh, with the ...?” She’s fully making it up, but Judy seems to know exactly what she’s supposedly talking about. She’s looking through the pictures she’d taken on Violet’s phone. After a minute of searching and some follow up questions (the abstract one, right?  _ sure.  _ Did it have green in it?  _ I think so.  _ Was it a big or small painting?  _ uhm, big? _ ) Judy shows her a picture. Violet does not recall having seen it, but she nods anyway. 

“Yeah that’s it.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.” Violet echoes, looking at Judy, who - in her enthusiasm - had gotten quite a bit closer to her. She looks at Judy with a helpless frown. “So what now?”

“Well.” Judy takes a second to grab her pen and paper, and sits down next to violet. She holds up the picture. “What do you think about when you look at it?”

“I- don’t know.” She pokes her cheek with her tongue. The painting is colourful. Red, green and blue shapes, squiggles and lines criss-cross against the white background. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to see in it. “What do  _ you  _ see?”

Judy thinks for a second, and Violet is overwhelmed by how beautiful she is with her tongue poking out a little bit, and the pensive frown on her face.

“It reminds me of a playground.” Judy says then. Violet smiles. “Like-” she thinks on her wording. “- Like running through an obstacle course in a funhouse. It’s like I can step into the painting and climb on top of the shapes, and jump from one line to the next, and slide off the squiggles. It seems very carefree.” She looks at Violet, and blushes, then clears her throat. “You could write about someone exploring the shapes and what they make them feel? Or make it into an abstract playground, that stands for childhood? With obstacles? Oh! And the abstract shapes can stand for how, as a child, everything is still very conceptual and new and strange, and things might seem random and odd, but it’s actually all part of one big composition!”

Violet laughs, her heart overflowing with adoration.

“Judy” She says. “I love your brain.” She can’t stop smiling.  _ I love you. _

\---

“Thank you for letting me stay for dinner.”

“Oh, Judy honey, you know you’re always welcome.” Violet’s mom smiles at her, and hands her the plate she just rinsed off. Judy starts drying it. “You should come over more often. I like having you here.”

“I want to,- and thank you!- it’s just. I know you and my mom have had-” she pauses, thinking about how to phrase it. She settles on “-disagreements. And I’m really glad you still want something to do with me after all of it. But my mom doesn’t like me being here. She barely let me go today.”

Mrs. Newstead hands her another plate. “I wish your mom could trust you to make your own decisions. You’re a good kid.”

“She’s just trying to protect me.”

“I know.”

“Are we talking about Judy’s mom?” Violet enters the kitchen with the laundry that she’s just finished folding. “She yelled at me when I picked Judy up.”

“You did provoke her a bit.” Judy defends.

“Nothing she didn’t deserve.”

Judy shrugs, putting the dry plate on the pile to her right. She misses the look Violet gets from her mother.

“The last one.” she says, handing Judy the plate. “Thank you, girls.”

  
  


-

_ I’m going to have to learn how to French braid.  _ Violet thinks, and hates how jealous she is of her mom in that moment, watching Judy drift off against her mother’s knees. 

Judy had been trying to braid her own hair, but her fingers were unsteady and her arms felt too heavy, so Violet’s mom had offered to do it for her. Now she’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning against Mrs. Newstead’s knees, humming contently at the gentle ministrations. Violet sighs, a little too loud, and her mom pauses her mostly one-sided conversation. She gives her daughter a knowing smile, and it’s so full of understanding that it makes Violet want to cry. 

After a bit, her mom says “All done,” and lifts Judy’s head from her knees to readjust herself into a more comfortable position.

“Thanks.” Judy murmurs. She feels a hand carefully petting her hair in response.  _ You’re very welcome,  _ the touch says. 

-

Violet looks good and hard at herself in the foggy bathroom mirror. She’s stalling, not wanting to face Judy just yet. She took an extra long shower (something she almost never does.) Then she brushed her hair, put her hair up, undid her hair, brushed it again, put it up again, undid her hair again, brushed it  _ again. _ She takes a deep breath. Judy is probably waiting for her, wondering what is taking her so long, but she doesn’t want to go out there yet.  _ What is wrong with you? _

They had been getting ready for bed, and Judy had looked so fucking adorable. Sleepy, drowsy, struggling to get her arms to work for long enough to undo the buttons on her blouse. So Violet had done it for her.

But she had gotten distracted, and she may have stared for a second too long. Not that Judy had noticed, being as sleepy as she was, but Violet had felt horrible about it, and had needed to distance herself for a second. So she undid the necessary buttons, and told Judy she was going to take a shower.

With a deep breath and a quiet “Stop being dramatic.”, she unlocks the door, and walks into her room.

She’d expected to find Judy still awake, waiting for her, maybe waiting to shower, too. But Judy already seems to be fast asleep, curled up on top of Violet’s bed, wearing one of Violet’s t-shirts. It’s way too big, and the sleeves reach just past her elbows. Violet’s heart flips in her chest.

She knows she has to wake her up. Judy still needs to brush her teeth and take off what little makeup she wore today. Not to mention that she is  _ in Violet’s bed. _ The mattress on the floor mocks her. 

_ Wake Judy up,  _ she thinks.  _ Get her through her nighttime routine, and get her in her own bed. _

But Judy looks so comfortable, so she bites her lip, trying to decide what to do. Eventually she does wake her up, knowing she would want that anyways. 

After a minute of coaxing her out of bed, Judy enters the bathroom, brushes her teeth, rinses twice, wipes off her makeup with sleepy motions, and makes her way back into Violet’s room, where Violet has already pulled back the covers on the mattress, fluffed up the pillow, and turned off the lights. (The small night lamp is on though, because she knows Judy sleeps better that way.)

But instead of laying down on the mattress, she picks up the blanket, wraps it around her shoulders, and lays down next to Violet on her bed, cuddling close. Violet forgets how to breathe for a moment. Judy’s head is on her shoulder, and an arm rests on her stomach. There’s barely enough room for them both, so Violet pulls her closer. 

“You smell nice.” Judy mumbles. Then, a bit more lucid, “Your shampoo, I mean.”

“Thanks.” Violet says, feeling a little overwhelmed. It’s nothing new, to cuddle with Judy. They’ve done it before. But there is something about this moment that makes her want to cry. From sorrow or from happiness, she doesn’t know. Maybe both. 

Judy quickly falls back to sleep, using Violet as her pillow, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She loves Judy. Loves her so much that it  _ hurts.  _ She wants nothing more than to have Judy in her arms for the rest of their lives, but she knows that’s not possible. She doesn’t belong to her, and she is already dating someone else. Plus, Judy isn’t into girls, so there is no use in hoping. No use in even daring to wonder what it would be like to kiss her lips. That doesn’t stop her though, because she does wonder - a lot. Judy’s lips always look very soft. They certainly  _ feel _ soft in her dreams.

She softly traces Judy’s hairline with her fingertips, then sighs, knowing that she is absolutely, fully, devastatingly fucked.


End file.
